For Georgiana, it was almost as if she'd had another baby herself; and the presence of the child, and the happy prospect of the years ahead while he was growing up, did much to restore her still further. By the end of the summer, George smilingly told her: "You look much more like yourself."

That autumn, she returned with him to Dublin for the parliamentary session. There were no dramatic developments during those months. News came that the Redcoats were doing well against the American rebels in the south, and that the newly arrived General Cornwallis had crushed a southern army under Gates. "The slaves are flocking to join us, too, as we've promised them freedom," George reported. Not that this news had discouraged Grattan and his Patriots. Having won concessions the previous session, he was urging an independent Irish Parliament now; but his support was limited. News came that in England, young Richard Sheridan had got himself elected to the Parliament in London. By Christmas, they had a letter from him making clear that he was already close with some of the leading opposition Whigs, "who are quite determined to do something for the Patriots of Ireland," he wrote, "if ever we can turn out Lord North-who remains like the rock of eternity." At the end of the spring, Kitty gave Hercules another son. They called the baby Augustus. It pleased Georgiana to think that he was probably conceived at the house in Wexford.

And it was to Wexford that she went back, with no small pleasure, in the month of May.

It was George's idea that Patrick should accompany her. He himself had business to attend to and would not be able to come down for some weeks. Hercules and Kitty had decided to spend time with the new-born baby nearer to Dublin, at the house in Fingal. But Patrick, who had been working hard for several months without a break, had said that he'd be delighted to go down to Wexford with her for a while.

He was certainly a most delightful travelling companion. He seemed instinctively to know when to tell an amusing story and when to be quiet. Sometimes he rode beside her carriage, sometimes he sat in the carriage with her, as they made an easy journey down, passing through Wicklow in the afternoon and stopping for the night at Arklow, before leaving early to reach Mount Walsh comfortably before the evening. Once at the big house, he immediately went to greet the cook and the other servants he remembered from his childhood; the next morning, when she took him round the estate, he spoke so gently and kindly to all those he met, some in English, others in Irish, that by the end of that day, he clearly had won them all. He also paid a call on Father Finnian, the local priest, to let him know that, without embarrassing his Protestant cousins at the big house, he would come quietly to Mass during his stay. And two days later, to his great delight, he discovered that one of the local gentlemen, a Catholic named Kelly with a small estate only three miles distant, was a fellow he had known some years before in Dublin.

He also made one other discovery. The gentleman in question had an unmarried sister, a few years younger than himself. They came to call at Mount Walsh a few days later. Jane Kelly was charming, intelligent, and pretty.

"I should think," Georgiana said after they'd gone, "that you might consider getting married one of these days."

Indeed, there was no reason why he shouldn't. With the modest legacy he'd received from Fortunatus, and the profits he was beginning to make in the wine trade, Patrick Walsh was well enough established to look for a wife. He was a gentleman; his father had been much loved. And as long as George and I are alive, he'll have family connections to help him, she thought.

"You're always matchmaking," he said with an affectionate grin. But two days later, he paid a morning call upon his friend and did not return until after dinner.

They settled into a very pleasant routine. Once a week, his clerk would send him a messenger with a report of the business from Dublin. He would spend an hour or two on this and write a reply. Apart from this, he was at leisure.

Some days, they would pay calls in the area and entertain in return. At least once a week, she noticed, he would see the Kellys. On quiet days, he and Georgiana would go for walks, eat together, and read to each other in the afternoon. He also set to work in the library. George had asked him if, while he was at Mount Walsh, he would catalogue the books there and draw up a list of recommendations for purchases. He went about the job thoroughly. "There's an excellent core of books which have come from Uncle Fortunatus's house," he told her. "You also have a remarkable collection of beautifully bound piffle." Georgiana informed him that they had been sent by a book dealer. "Who was damn certain no one would ever bother to open them," he laughed. "Anyway, I'm drawing up a list." The only trouble, he told her, was that he would need to get the list fair-copied. "My own hand is so illegible that I'm quite ashamed of it. I'll ask Father Finnian if he knows anyone," he suggested.

He was surprised, the following day, when she brought the girl Brigid into the library and asked him to judge whether her copying might be satisfactory. He was astonished when she not only wrote a beautiful script but seemed to have no difficulty with titles in French or in Latin. "She can even decipher my hand," he laughed, "which is the most remarkable accomplishment of all. Your father sent you to a hedge school, I suppose?" he asked the girl, and she nodded. For an hour or two each day, thereafter, Brigid was told to sit at the great library table and work on the notes Patrick gave her. Georgiana had been pleased to see, on her return, that her pale young protege had continued to put on a little weight, and was delighted with herself for thinking of this further stratagem to give the girl confidence.

Halfway through June, George arrived. He was delighted with Patrick's efforts in the library and thanked him warmly. He also urged him to remain, but Patrick announced that he would return to Dublin the following day to attend to his business. That afternoon, he went to see the Kellys.

He joined George and Georgiana for a family dinner that evening, however. It was a delightful meal. The three of them dined together, not in the big formal dining room, but in a small parlour. The talk was general, but it soon turned to politics, and George gave them all the latest news.

"Grattan and his Patriots are quite determined to press ahead with their demands in the next session. I've spoken to many of them in the last month. The independent Irish Parliament they want would still be under the king; they aren't trying to break away completely, like the Americans; but the English Parliament would have no further say in our affairs at all."

"But they can't get it," Georgiana said.

"No. In the Dublin Parliament, they haven't the votes. At Westminster, Lord North isn't going to give it to them. If our young playwright friend Sheridan and his Whigs ever get in, they've promised to do something; but there's no chance of that at present."

"And the Volunteers?" asked Patrick.

"Reluctant. They've won their free trade. Most of them don't want the trouble of a revolution." He paused. "Except up in Ulster. The mood there is different. The Ulster Protestants have no love for England, for they're mostly Scots Covenanters at heart. They'd be glad to go the American way any day of the week, I'd guess."

Georgiana thought of her Law cousins.

"For them," she remarked, "everything is a question of principle."

"Probably," said George, "but they can be contained."

When they came to the dessert, the conversation turned to a more pleasant topic.

Georgiana had been especially enthusiastic about Patrick's work in the library, and also rather pleased with herself at finding him his assistant.

"Do tell George about Brigid," she begged.

So Patrick gave an account of the girl's talents.

"Her father is a craftsman, but he can speak Latin, and she even has quite a few words of it herself. Sometimes, when she is waiting for me to give her some more to do, I see her quietly reading the books-and she chooses the better ones, too! I have had a number of conversations with her. And," he gave them both a serious look, "though she is an unusually intelligent example, she represents more of our Catholic Irish peasantry than many Protestants suppose."

George nodded.

"It was a point my father, quite rightly, never ceased to make." He smiled. "And now, Patrick, I have a further favour to ask you, and one which we both hope will cause you to make more visits down here. Your recommendations for the library are so excellent, I wonder if you would consent to make the purchases for us, as you see fit, and install them here. In other words, take over the library and build it up into something fine."

"Would you, Patrick?" Georgiana added her own plea.

Patrick pursed his lips. He could not help reflecting that his labour would actually be building up a library for Hercules: not an attractive prospect. George seemed to read his thoughts.

"If I do it myself, I know the result will be mediocre. Hercules will never bother at all, for he reads little. But I'd like our generation to leave something of excellence for little William and the generations to come. It would give me-and it would certainly have given Fortunatus-great joy to think that in a hundred years or two, future members of the family would show people a noble library and say, "Our cousin Patrick is to be thanked for this."

After that, how could he refuse?

Patrick returned at the end of the summer, when George was also there, and the three of them had a very pleasant two weeks together.

Patrick had brought with him a list of the books he had already purchased, and four large, leather-bound volumes that were to become the library's catalogue. He spent an entire day in the library with Brigid, setting up the catalogue, showing her exactly how the entries were to be made, and checking all the entries on the list as she wrote them. At the end of this, he pronounced himself highly satisfied with her work and even took the trouble to talk to her for half an hour after she had finished, announcing to Georgiana afterwards: "You have a treasure there."

While it would have been an exaggeration to say that Brigid had filled out that summer-for she was still thin and pale-Georgiana considered that she looked very much improved from her former state, and this well-merited praise from Patrick, she was sure, could only give the girl further confidence.

Indeed, a few days later, she came into the kitchen to find that Patrick had gone down there to see his old friend the cook. He was telling her and the other servants an amusing story. They had not observed her by the door, so she watched in silence, and it was a delight to see from all their faces that they obviously loved him. At the end of the story, there were peals of laughter; even Brigid smilingly joined in, and Georgiana realised that she had never seen the solemn girl laugh before. She quietly left, congratulating herself that, thanks to her own efforts and to dear Patrick, Mount Walsh was a happier place than it had been before.

But what about the Kelly girl? He had gone to the Kelly house the day after he arrived, and again a few days later. She invited Kelly and his sister to visit them for the day, early the following week. George performed his part as Patrick's loyal kinsman, and seemed to get on famously with Kelly, while she discreetly praised Patrick to the girl. In the afternoon, they inspected a garden George had started to lay out, which gave Patrick and Jane a chance to walk alone together. But at the end of the day, when the visitors had gone and she found herself alone with Patrick and asked him what he really thought of the girl, his answer was rather unsatisfactory.

"I like her very well."

"And how well is that, might I ask?" she enquired.

"I find it hard to say, to tell you the truth. It surprises me that I should find it so, but I do. We agree on many things."

"She is Catholic."

"Yes. Her mind, her manners, her person are altogether all that could be desired. My feelings for her are . . ."

"Tender?"

"Oh yes. Tender." The thought did not altogether seem to please him.

"You are perhaps not in love."

"Perhaps not." He paused. "Not quite, I think."

"Common interests, respect, and tenderness are the best basis for a marriage, Patrick. I do know that. Love often follows."

"Indeed. Quite so."

"Has she feelings for you?"

"I think so. She has indicated . . ." He hesitated. "The fact is, I find myself confused by my own feelings. I do not know . . ."

"There is no other?"

"Other? Oh. No." He shook his head. "No. No other."

Georgiana sighed. She felt sorry for the girl, but she said no more.

A few days later, they were all due to leave for Dublin. She and George rode in the big carriage, which was followed by a second cart containing two servants and several portmanteaus. Patrick rode beside the carriage with them as far as Wicklow. There he parted from them, as he wished to ride up into the mountains to visit the old monastic site of Glendalough. "I have always heard so much about the beauty of the place," he told Georgiana, "yet to my shame I have never been there." He promised to call upon her in Merrion Square the following week.

As they made their way back to Dublin, Georgiana turned to her husband: "I've been thinking. If Patrick can't make up his mind about the Kelly girl, there may be an even better alternative." And she told him her idea.

"Good God," said George.

It was some weeks before she was able to arrange a meeting, since the girl was away. The parliamentary session had started. As promised, the Patriots and their friends were issuing calls for independence, but making little headway. The party she held at Merrion Square, therefore, had a purely social rather than a political character. An elegant company was invited, including even the Leinsters. Her daughter Eliza and her husband came, but Hercules, having been told that Patrick would be there, decided to stay away. And with Eliza came the young lady.

Only a sad accident had put Louisa Fitzgerald back in play. About a year after Hercules had declared that she had too many opinions to become his wife, she had married a neighbouring landowner and they had had a daughter. Then her husband had been killed in a hunting accident, and for some time she had been inconsolable. But now she had recovered sufficiently to go out in society again; and with the use of her husband's estate, her widow's portion, and the inheritance from her aunt still to come, she might be regarded as one of the finest catches in Dublin.

"You're aiming very high," George had warned her. This was an understatement. It would have been one thing for Hercules, the rich heir of Lord Mountwalsh, to marry Louisa; but for his poor cousin to do so, decent fellow though he undoubtedly was, would cause general astonishment. And much as Georgiana loved Patrick, she wouldn't have denied that the challenge of the thing was part of its attraction to her. But Louisa was a young widow with a mind of her own. Who knew whom she might choose? "And he is Catholic, to boot," George had added, "when she is Protestant."

That, of course, was another huge objection. Yet not insuperable. Georgiana had several aristocratic friends with mixed marriages. As long as they could agree about the children-who were normally brought up Protestant-the rest could all be arranged. She even knew of one man who had married twice, had three Protestant children with the first wife and three Catholics with the second.

The party was a great success. Louisa met Patrick, and Patrick was charming. A few days later, Patrick received an invitation to attend an assembly at Leinster House; and though it might be that the duke and duchess, having met him, had thought to add him to their list, Georgiana thought it more likely that Louisa was behind it. Certainly, Patrick told her afterwards, she had been there, come up to him herself, and invited him to call upon her. "Which I hope you will do," Georgiana said. "Do you like her?"

"Yes," he replied, and this time without any hesitation. "I like her very much."

Still more encouraging, two days later Eliza called round and told her, "Louisa has taken a great fancy to Patrick."

"His lack of fortune?"

"Could be overlooked."

"His religion?"

"In itself, not of great concern. Though I'm sure she would not wish her children to suffer the disadvantages that must attend any Catholic, no matter what their birth."

"Well," Georgiana remarked, "we shall have to wait and see, now, what Patrick means to do."

He duly called upon Louisa at her house, not once, but twice, in the next two weeks. Then he announced that he wished to go down to Wexford.

He departed for Mount Walsh in a cart, loaded with books for the library that he had already acquired. "He is going about our business in a most thorough manner," George said with approval. Patrick spent a week down at the estate, and since his work in the library could hardly have taken up much of his time, Georgiana guessed that he might be spending time with Jane Kelly. Had his encounters with Louisa caused him to turn back to the Catholic girl in Wexford? Was he trying to make up his mind where his heart lay between the two? She heard he had returned, but he did not call round to see her for a while. And she might have become quite impatient for news had it not been for another event which, at that moment, swept aside all other considerations.

"We are beaten in America. Cornwallis has surrendered." It was Doyle who came round to the door with the news. George and Hercules arrived together from the Parliament an hour later.

What did it mean? Throughout the midwinter season there was scarcely another subject spoken of in Dublin. Was the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown the end of the whole business? Would the government raise fresh troops, or was the entire colony to be lost? From the moment he heard the news, George was certain. "They haven't the will to go on. America's lost." Hercules in particular was plunged in gloom. "If the American rebels have won, then the Irish rebels will follow close behind," he decided. Certainly, in Ulster news came that the Volunteers were holding triumphant rallies and issuing demands for independence.

Patrick did not appear at the house until January, when he announced that he was going to London on business. "Also to see some book dealers on your behalf," he told George. When Georgiana asked him if he had seen either Jane Kelly or Louisa, he answered that he had seen them both, but he was entirely evasive beyond that point. "Whatever he is up to, he doesn't wish you to know," her husband laughed-which, seeing that she had been so instrumental in promoting both causes, she thought very unfair. All her daughter Eliza could tell her, which she had from Louisa, was that Patrick seemed to be torn in his loyalties. It must surely, Georgiana thought, be over the question of religion.

He remained away for weeks. Was he avoiding them all by staying in London? Perhaps. Meanwhile, the Ulster Volunteers held a huge rally up in the town of Dungannon. "They've issued a manifesto calling for independence, and sworn not to vote for any parliamentary candidate who won't support it," George told her. "It's the Covenant all over again."

Then, late in March, came the news from London.

"Lord North and his government have resigned. The English Parliament is giving up America. King George is threatening to abdicate." And then, soon afterwards, an ashen-faced Hercules came round.

"The king will stay; but there's to be a new government in London. The damned Whigs are in. Your cursed friend Richard Sheridan is given ministerial office. And do you know what he has declared in the English Commons? That the rule of the English over the Irish Parliament is a 'tyrannous usurpation.' Those were his very words." He shook his head. "The world has gone mad."

Mad or not, it was clear at once to everyone that a great change was in the air. With the Whigs in power in England, and the Ulster Volunteers sending out representatives with their manifesto all over Ireland, the Patriots had never been given such a glorious opportunity before. To the disgust but not the surprise of Hercules, Grattan immediately introduced a motion into the Dublin Parliament demanding independence for the Irish Parliament under the crown. "We will share a king with the English," the Patriots declared, "but with the dignity of a separate nation." On the day of the great debate, Georgiana went to watch from the gallery. Grattan was sick that day, as it happened, but he rose from his bed to attend. No one, not even his enemies, could deny, Georgiana thought, that he cut a simple and noble figure as he overcame his sickness to give one of the finest speeches of his life. Members who would have voted with Hercules before, seeing that the wind was suddenly blowing the other way, voted with the Patriots now. To cheers, the motion was carried. The Irish Parliament, by a clear majority, declared its independence from England. And there was little chance that the Whigs in London, having always supported the Patriot cause before, could do anything but ratify it now. Grattan had triumphed; Ireland had triumphed. But in all fairness, it had to be admitted that Hercules was not entirely wrong when he declared: "It's the damned Americans we have to thank for this."

Patrick returned to Dublin a week after the debate, and this time he did not fail to call to see Georgiana.

"You missed all the fun," she remarked.

"I conducted some excellent business," he informed her. "I have also shipped over a prodigious quantity of books for your library."

"And have you come to a decision concerning the women in your life?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied calmly, "I think so." But he did not say more, and so she managed, with great difficulty, not to enquire further.

Two days later, he called upon Louisa. But what had transpired between them, not even Eliza could discover. Early in May, accompanied by two cartloads of books, he went out for Mount Walsh.

The English Parliament did not vote upon the Irish question until the middle of the month, and George and Georgiana remained in Dublin until news came that, as anticipated, the Whigs had given the Patriots what they wanted. Then they set out for Wexford themselves.

"By the time we get there, I've no doubt Patrick will have catalogued and installed all the new books," George remarked with satisfaction.

"And perhaps he'll also be able to tell me what he has decided about Louisa and Jane Kelly," Georgiana added. "What do you think he has done?"

"I think he has been tempted by Louisa and her fortune, but that his conscience has led him back to the Catholic girl," said her husband.

When they arrived at Mount Walsh, however, and asked if Patrick was there, they were told that he had left the day before. That was all they were told.

"I could scream with vexation," Georgiana confessed with a laugh as soon as they were alone in their bedroom.

But she noticed that her husband was looking thoughtful.

"Something's up," he told her. "Didn't you notice that all the servants are looking awkward?" A few moments later, he left her, returning ten minutes later. "The books are in the library, all beautifully catalogued. Everything's in perfect order. But I'm telling you, there's something going on."

"Leave it to me," she said with a smile, and went down to see the cook.

It did not take long. Only as long as it took the dear woman to lead Georgiana into the pantry, where they could be alone, and to burst out her incoherent tale. "Oh, my lady," she began, "such goings-on." The butler was only waiting until his lordship came down to acquaint him of the situation.

"Situation?"